The Confessions of Andvo Vdenn
by Neohtan the Wise
Summary: Shortly after the re-establishment of the Galactic Republic, a former clone brings startling charges against the Cloner's of Kamino, and reveals one of the Galaxy's darkest secrets.
1. Chapter 1

From the Records of the Reinstated Intergalactic Court of Coruscant:

Defense Attorney: Andvo Vdenn please come to the stand.

Bailiff: Now, repeat after me: I swear by the Force all-prevailing that the evidence I shall give will be nothing but the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

Andvo Vdenn: I swear by the Force all-prevailing that the evidence I shall give will be nothing but the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

D.A: You are clone number 1437, are you not?

Andvo Vdenn: I am.

D.A: Were you born in the cloning facility of Kamino?

Andvo Vdenn: I was

D.A.: And was there anything abnormal about the circumstances of that birth?

Andvo Vdenn: Aside from the usual abnormalities of such a facility I would not know. I had my mind wiped several times.

D.A.: Yet you remember enough to relay this account? To remember that your mind had been wiped at all?

Andvo Vdenn: I remember because I could not forget. Though my own memories were lost to me for a time they were sparked by the relics of my childhood and the records of the Kaminoan facilities. I know of what I speak.

D.A.: I think things are pretty clear, your honor. Here we have a prosecution who can't even remember their own charges, ridiculous that they are, against a legitimate facility that-

Andvo Vdenn: My name is 1437. I was born in the 17th year of production and raised in cloning bay number four. At the age of five I was attached to a simulator and told to learn. I learned fast, much like the other clones, and progressed in my time.

From the beginning I was… defective.

It is a voice, they say, that governs obedience. A constant, mechanical voice that wears down the soul, what concept of such a thing is left. Orders were to be obeyed at the instant, without question. We were droids, in a sense, raised like sheep to the slaughter, programmed to age and develop faster than other human beings, if you could call us that, and all exactly identical to our one Master, the Republic of Coruscant.

If I had been obedient, I would not be standing here today. For I discovered something, when they told me to learn: a token, perhaps, of my all too questionable humanity.

I discovered my doom.


	2. Chapter 2

From the Testimony of Andvo Vdenn: Corporal, C Company, 2nd Clone Battalion, 123rd Airborne, 5th Army of the Galactic Republic of Coruscant, Retired:

No one walked in those days. There was always a rhythm to movement, a drumbeat somewhere, whether projected over the planes of reality or embedded within our martially manifested minds. Everywhere, we marched. In some ways, it was ridiculous: we'd never wait for an escort with which to form column. Imagine: 1500 identical little boys stomping about to an imaginary drumbeat. Sure, our Seargent's would say, we were in step, but with who? The air?

"Your name, clone?" A whistling, whispering voice slithered at me. A snake's voice. Kaminoan: their necks distended by years of careful breeding, a perfect receptor for the perfect contract. She, a Psychologist, I had been told, attached to Bay Four, the eerie, skeletal-thin speaker of the aforementioned phrase, was seated in that particular Kamino way, lithe and defiant of gravity, on the hovering spoons that passed for chairs among her people, her oversized night-black eyes looming eerily from the sickly cadaver of her skull, slightly tilted atop that impossibly long neck like an egg perched precariously atop a mountain spire.

"1437." I mumbled. A new term: shame. I had learned it a few days ago, during the simulation. It was painful, but for some reason I didn't regret the knowledge.

She checked a clipboard. I hadn't lied. Another new term: lying. I know much of it now.

"We know what you did." She said. Her voice sounded like the constant drum of raindrops on metal ductwork. No wonder, this being the climate of her home world.

"I don't."

A bemused expression flitted across her face. She was a scientist, through and through, and I her specimen.

"Good. Come in."

I came in. The room was whitewashed, as usual, gleaming with the sterile glow of the overhead lights as to partially blind the visitor. My feet clanged hollowly off the monochrome white floor. It looked slippery, for some reason, but it wasn't. I stopped a few paces from the Kaminoan, saluting silently for the second time. A soft whir was heard as the blast door shut behind me.

"You're very charming, you know that?" I declined a response.

She sighed; wrapping her alien fingers, stretched to the length of the impossible, around her robe- shrouded body, There was a silence that seemed to stretch for eternity, punctuated only by the muffled tapping's the Kaminoan Managers pacing to and fro on the floor above. Despite my rigid stance of attention, I could not help but shuffle awkwardly from foot to foot. My dark Coruscanti blue jumpsuit, for that is where our shipment was headed, had begun to itch.

"You would not have done that, before." Again, I did not say anything, my head now resolutely projected at the floor.

She shifted position, leaning a little forward, an awkward posture for one of her species, but insatiable, involuntary.

"You know it is forbidden to leave the simulator room during a session." I nodded. I knew all too well.

So did my host, and another note, indiscernible to my faraway eyes, appeared on the clipboard.

"You know you would not be standing here if you had not done something wrong." I nodded again. Why did she have to repeat herself so often? Wasn't doing something forbidden something wrong?

"Why did you leave your post?"

No answer. Silence was always my best recourse where punishment was concerned.

Another scribble, a flourish of the pen: boxes checked, notes amended.

"Why did you leave your post?" The same question: the same monotone machinery of speech. I stared at the floor.

More notes, a scrawl or two this time, some thoughtful pondering. What did she want with me?

"Good. I think this is enough." With that, she stood up, gliding gracefully toward the opposite blast door, the only other feature in the room besides the chair and the door I had entered through. My eyes sprang from their position near the floor. I had to tell someone.

"Wait…" I called; my voice feeble, timid.

She spun instantly, practically sprinting back to the chair, an action I did not previously believe possible for Kaminoans.

"What?" She asked, her eyes eager, somehow, searching, her body nearly prone in that same leaning-forward posture, but accentuated, aggressive…

"I…" I trailed off, my child's voice inadequate for the task.

"Yes?"

"I saw something."

"What did you see?"

"I… it…" I choked on the words, feeling the alien weight of tears behind my eyes.

"Speak up…" she proclaimed, and I obeyed:

"I saw a factory. And Droids, and children. I…"

But I did not get any further. My senseless body had already hit the floor.


End file.
